


written on the body.

by namelikeafairytale, organizedcure (namelikeafairytale)



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Original Fiction, Writing on Skin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-09
Updated: 2011-03-09
Packaged: 2017-10-17 22:22:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/namelikeafairytale/pseuds/namelikeafairytale, https://archiveofourown.org/users/namelikeafairytale/pseuds/organizedcure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>written for kisforkurama, basically.</p></blockquote>





	written on the body.

  
Claire hears Kit sigh and it makes her smile. Sharpie in hand, she sits, straddled on Kit's lower back.  
The heat of skin on skin makes Claire dizzy, sensations swirl in her stomach, and she has to close her eyes and focus on the cool plastic in her fingers, and the weight of her hair on her head, anything that isn't the body lying beneath her, to ground herself. Her own breathing steadies, and Kit's does too. Their breaths synchronize and Claire wants to tie herself down to the feeling of oneness. She traces the curve of Kit's back, pale skin against bleached sheets.

Kit breathes out as Claire uncaps the marker. It's purple. She rolls her eyes at it, but keeps them closed.

Kit was such a romantic.

Claire remembers the first time this started. Some time in between the poems Kit would pen for her and the phone calls that lasted hours. The first time one of them took ink to skin. The first time the metal ball-point pen pressed against the back of Claire's neck. She giggled and shrugged because Kit was always coming up with new ways to tease her, and this was just another form of teasing torture, like when they'd play with each other's fingers underneath desks, and trade innuendo back and forth. But Kit wasn't smiling indulgently when Claire turned around to look at her. Kit's gaze was steady, lips parted, the pen was in her hand, some glittery purple gel pen still aimed at Claire's neck.

Kit glanced at the collar bones and she traced the line of protruding skin, pressing lightly, watching as the ink rolled on steadily.

Claire just looked up, neck angled, and willing.

Claire opens her eyes.

With her free hand, Claire touches her hand to her chest, scratching at her bones, and she shudders.

Kit's face is turned, but she can't really see what Claire's doing. And Claire likes it this way. She likes being in control for once.

She leans in, one hand gripping Kit's arm, and the other hovering centimeters from Kit's back.

"If you don't fucking hurry up," Kit says, her voice is muffled slightly from the pillows on her cheek, but she continues, "I might expire before you decide to actually do something."

Something in Claire is humming, like the near-silent radio static. She drapes her body onto Claire's back and presses her lips to Kit's ear.

"Do you need me to do this, Kit?" Claire breathes hotly, her words tight.

She drags the sharpie along her face, a thick line created from Kit's temple to her chin. And that shuts her up. She can feel the small moan drag itself from the confines of Kit's throat, sounding broken, barely audible, but she's close enough to hear it.

Claire leans up and hums. There's a rhythm underneath her skin, and it's focused in her right hand, and she starts on Kit's left shoulder. _you need this_ Claire doesn't whisper the words, doesn't say them at all, just writes letter after letter onto Kit's back, and everything she's ever held back, all her insecurities are written on the body in fluid, purple cursive.

 _why'd you kiss her?_   
_when you want something, you never ask for it._   
_don't say it. you can't make me feel like this._   
_i know you don't like the way i am around you, so helpless, so submissive._   
_you suck. so much._

Claire feels Kit moving restless underneath her. She's squirming, and Claire can't help but thrust back down to try and make her still.

 _these words aren't the ones i want to write_   
_when you smile, i feel like dying_   
_i like waking up next to you. i like your morning mess._

Claire's writing is sloppy now, no longer a dainty, loopy cursive. The words are etched on, and the sweat drips from the base of Kit's neck and she won't stop writhing and Claire isn't even writing anymore, just drawing stars, dozens of them. Kit's hands are gripping at the sheets and Claire keeps squeezing her hips, pressing down her hot heat onto skin.

Skin, so much skin. Her sad truths aren't legible anymore. She keeps rubbing her palms onto the words, and they're melting into small slick slices of moisture. Claire feels electric, she feels alive, she feels all the words leaving her body, exorcised from tormenting her. They're gone.

The rhythmic hum is gone from her fingers, now centered in her lower stomach, coiling hot and delicious. She drops the marker and rides out the feeling as it fills up her entire body. She knows this is selfish, the way she's taking exactly what she needs from Kit, using her, writing, riding, writing, thrusting, clenching, biting her lips. She doesn't make a sound.

Kit moves with her, arching her back to release the pent-up energy. Kit just keeps fucking herself into the sheets while Claire grinds up and down and _oh, fuck me, fuck- nh._

Claire doesn't stop moving, she keeps struggling past her shaking limbs and rocks herself down, at her own pace. Kit's done for. She's sighing languidly, rolling her head to the sensation.

Claire pulls off, a sticky mess in between her thighs, but the clean up will come later. She pulls the sheet from where it's fallen onto the floor and shakes it grandiosely. It falls gently over the two bodies.

Claire smiles and Kit faces her. Blue eyes meet brown. Claire's brick-red locks play with Kit's dark tresses and they're smiling. Their hands seek each other out. Claire feels the smooth curve of the sharpie, and Kit shuffles down the bed, her hair disappearing under the blanket. Her hand stokes the length of Claire's thigh and she draws a shape on Claire's hip.

A small heart.

"I like us better like this," Kit breathes along Claire's stomach. She presses a kiss to it, and Claire laughs, her fingers tracing the smeared words on Kit's back.

**Author's Note:**

> written for kisforkurama, basically.


End file.
